


No More Silly Games

by UnapologeticallyMeatwad



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Working with the Villain, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyMeatwad/pseuds/UnapologeticallyMeatwad
Summary: Kim's battlesuit is destroyed by Shego and she has no one left to turn to but the Bermuda Triangle for help. Just a little worldbuilding.
Relationships: "Big Daddy" Brotherson/Hank Perkins
Kudos: 2





	No More Silly Games

Kim slaps the supersuit Wade designed for her on the table; the thing is positively wrecked. There are huge gashes in the fabric, revealing the sparking wires and metal underneath. Kim groans and looks up to the two people she's counting on right now: Big Daddy Brotherson and Hank Perkins who are… partners. Both in life and in crime. Which is cool.

"Can you fix this?" she asks.

Hank raises a carefully groomed eyebrow and eyes Kim cautiously. "What happen—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Kim groans. "But my team is MIA and I'm solo."

"Who's the combatant?" Big Daddy asks tonelessly.

Kim grits her teeth. "I said — I don't — want — to — talk — about it."

Hank clutches Big Daddy's arm.

"I know, I know," Big Daddy gestures with his hands innocently. "I'll elaborate. Your suit? I have no one who can fix that, roll it up and get your tech protege back to fix it. What I can offer you is gear, but first you need to tell me who you're up against… and how much you're willing to pay."

Kim sputters a response and Big Daddy turns away, waving for her to follow him and Hank through the curtain.

God, she really doesn't like this, needing to coordinate with villains. But this is where she happened to crash land after everything happened, so this is what she has to deal with.

Kim ducks her head under the thick magenta cloth and finds herself in a narrow hallway. Lots of pictures on the walls, but no time to check them out. Big Daddy and Hank walk fast.

"It's Shego," Kim says, seething. She _hates_ losing to Shego. Even though her win-lose ratio is like… pretty scaled in her favor, it hurts so bad to score a loss. Especially such a crushing one. "And I don't have money."

Big Daddy stops in place. "Then this is a waste of my time."

Kim furrows her brow. "I can negotiate."

"No," Big Daddy starts. "We are not—"

Hank raises two fingers to Big Daddy's lips and throws a playful glance over to Kim. "What's your offer?" he says. "It better be good, because we're going to outfit you with the finest."

Kim considers this. "Tell me more about your operation."

Hank smiles wider. "Follow me to the changing room."

* * *

Kim really does not enjoy changing around these villains. IT just feels tense and unsafe, even though she's just dressing down to her tank top and leggings that cut off at the calves. Still exposes enough flesh that her wounds are highly visible—

—which Hank notices immediately upon stepping in with her, holding something skintight in his hand, but he gives her body a once over. She's decked in scars, cuts, and bruises. "I always wondered how you retained so much damage to your body," Hank muses, as if she's an anatomical dummy and not flesh and blood. "Your suit had a healing factor, correct?"

Kim sighs. "Yeah. You're going to make me see your doctors, aren't you? I really don't have time."

Hank presses his thin lips together. "You need a healing factor, I have a healing factor." He turns away and opens the curtain. "So what? Did you realize the suit wasn't working before or after you got massacred?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Kim spits.

"I'm just trying to work with you here," Hank sighs. "You've been fighting crime for years, but I don't think we've squared off since the cupcake thing."

"Organized crime isn't really my division," Kim says and steps out after him.

"Traditionally, sure," Hank says and pulls something off the rack. Black, skin tight latex. Kim is assuming it heals. She snatches it from and pulls it over her body, and already its under-lining reminds her of the supersuit. It's like an ultra-fine mesh pressing against her skin. "We do hits, but generally it's against other bad people. We're on Global Justice's good side."

"Yeah, well I'm not," Kim sighs, standing tall. The suit runs all the way up to her wrists, ankles, and jaw. "What else you got?"

Hank smiles wryly. "You'll find that not only does that have a healing factor, it stands up against heat. Shego hits you with a plasma bolt, you'll feel the impact but it won't burn. See what happens when you tell us straight?"

Kim frowns. She hates this. She hates asking for help. But she doesn't have a choice right now.

"If you can recall, Miss Possible," Big Daddy harrumphs from behind her. "Frugal Lucre nearly took over the world — no major agency or team, including your own, recognized the serious threat he posed."

Kim's gaze softens. " _You_ guys took Lucre out?"

Hank comes at Kim from behind, sliding a dress shirt over her arms. She instinctively moves to button the thing up. It's white and soft. She turns around to ask what's up when Hank clamps some contraption around her waist. It's usually where her utility belt goes.

"This will grab the things you need just by thinking about them," Hank says, latching her standard utility belt on underneath the frame, and then running spring loaded metal linings around her arms. It's like a foldable cage wrapped around her upper body. "And yes, we did Lucre, and we made a deal with him. Kept him out of trouble in exchange for his talents. He designed this specific thing you're putting on, ya know."

Kim spares Hank a glance, thinking. A few years ago, she'd question this and say that Lucre should be in jail. But she doesn't believe in that anymore either. Hell, she doesn't know _what_ she believes in. She just knows that Drakken and Shego are, in this moment, doing something definitely wrong.

"That's what we do, Kim," Hank says, fitting a slick black blazer over the metal frame, and reaching around her neck from behind to give her a tie. "Heat resistant, and _sharp_. Makes you look good in a way I think will be distracting for your enemies."

Hank continues to stack things on for her. Flexible, metal gloves that shine in the light. Not super strong, but give her punches a bit more oomph, and the inner padding protects her knuckles from bruising. Something similar is fitting around her calves. With some nice boots and a quick grooming, she looks like any other mobster.

It's nice though. She likes it.

"Can I fly?" she asks suddenly. "I'd like to fly."

"They're not perfect," Hank says, slapping the back of the blazer. "But there are wings that can fold of the blazer. I'd save it for gliding only. It's a work in progress."

"Fine," Kim smirks and thrusts her wrist at the air, thinking of the grapple. It flies out of her belt, rides through the blazer — the whole blazer shifting like distorted reality — and it pops out in her hand. "Nice."

Hank steps away and leans against the desk besides Big Daddy, who stands away from the desk with his arms crossed.

"Right. Cost," Kim puts her hands in her slacks. "What do you want?"

"Loyalty," Big Daddy says sternly.

Kim's face falls.

Big Daddy cracks a smile. "Ha, I made it sound worse than it is. Isn't that right, Hank?"

Hank bobs his head against Big Daddy's shoulder. "It was _alright_. I'd workshop it for next time."

"Mm," Big Daddy nods, still amused by his little funny. "I want your team to offer your services to _me_." He sticks a finger in the air, anticipating protest. None comes. "You do not need to decide now, but following your work against Shego where you will surely triumph, you will speak candidly with your team what kind of work is acceptable and unacceptable to you. You will submit that list to Hank within the week."

"And please, be honest in it," Hank groans. "I need these to actually be thought out for our system to work."

"Yes, please do," Big Daddy adds on. "We're in need of more freelancers and though you might not be the perfect fit for us, there is work we do that you'd like. You will be on call and unless otherwise preoccupied, expected to accept all missions sent your way for… a year, let's say."

"A year?" Kim repeats. That's a helluva commitment for a few pieces of gear.

"Yes, first mission pays for the suit you are buying from us right now," Hank cuts in. "After that we'll pay you. Handsomely." He looks to Big Daddy and whispers, "That's what you were going to say, right?"

"Yes," Big Daddy says. "It's a reasonable contract I think. Do you accept?"

Kim thinks for a moment. She really hates making decisions without the team, but she also can't wait for their input. And she needs the suit. Thinking ahead, the gig sounds pretty solid too. They could really use the work, specifically paid work, since nearly every mission lately has been volunteer only.

"I have one condition," Kim says carefully, sizing Big Daddy up. "You don't waste my team's talents. We're very good at what we do, and I expect you to treat us as such." She crosses her arms for good measure.

Big Daddy smiles. "Yes, of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." He holds his hand out. Hank sticks his out too, which is sort of awkward but Kim reluctantly shakes both hands at the same time, and then backs off.

"Do you feel reasonably prepared to save your friends?" Big Daddy asks.

Kim considers that. "I need a boat."

"Done," Big Daddy nods to Hank. "We'll have a boat for you within the half hour."

"Thank you," Kim says earnestly. "Sorry for coming across as, uh, cold, initially."

"It's fine," Hank sighs, passing by to, Kim is assuming, wrangle a boat for her.

"Yes, you're under a lot of pressure," Big Daddy looks to her with a lot of admiration. She appreciates it. "You'll be fine. You're working with the best now."

Kim smirks. " _Close_ to the best."

Big Daddy's eyes pop open. "What? Who else is—"

Kim just waves him off and follows along after Hank, sending one parting glance to Big Daddy.

"My team is the best."


End file.
